


Not A Queen, But A Woman

by Kissed_by_Circe



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Jon is the son of Arthur Dayne, Modern Royalty, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 21:00:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17311778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissed_by_Circe/pseuds/Kissed_by_Circe
Summary: “Robert- the king asked me to marry him”, she sobs, and buries her face in her mother’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around her and clinging to her like a child after a night terror. Catelyn’s voice is drained of emotion, so empty it’s more frightening than if she’d cried, when she asks “What did you say? Sansa, child, what did you tell him?”Sansa could have been a queen, but maybe being Mrs Sansa Snow is better.





	Not A Queen, But A Woman

**Author's Note:**

> Jon's the son of Lady Lyanna Snow and Ser Arthur Dayne here, but the press thinks that Rhaegar is his father

**_Sansa Stark broke up with Prince Joffrey – but no one expected THIS to be the reason_ **

****

**_King Robert (48) refuses to name Lady Shireen (16) his heir, searches for new wife to ‘give him a son’ – more on page 6_ **

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**_Princes Joffrey and Tommen and Princess Myrcella excluded from line of succession after DNA-Test!_ **

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**_Cersei Lannister speaks out against King Robert, demands trial – three more women accuse monarch of harassment and sexual assault_ **

 

 

Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. twenty-four.

 

Counting her breathing, again and again, she doesn’t hear anything – not how Robert brawls in the ball room, not how her mother begs her to unlock the bathroom door, not the cracking sound of gold and rubies hitting the tiled floor. She concentrates on the cool, smooth ceramic of the sink under her hands, and counts the tiles over the toilet thrice, before she’s calm enough to actually listen to the world behind the oaken door again.

 

“Sansa, darling, just let me in there, okay? Open the door, _please_ ”, Catelyn pleads, a desperate edge in her voice, and she gets up from her place on the floor and opens it, just a crack, barely enough room for her mother to squeeze through. She looks at her with concern shining in her eyes, grabbing her daughter’s arms and looking her over, as if to search for signs of an injury. “What’s happened, sweetling? Did something, um, _trigger_ you?”

 

“Robert- the king asked me to marry him”, she sobs, and buries her face in her mother’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around her and clinging to her like a child after a night terror. Catelyn’s voice is drained of emotion, so empty it’s more frightening than if she’d cried, when she asks “What did you say? Sansa, child, _what did you tell him_?”

 

Looking up, fear etched onto her face, Sansa answers while wrapping her arms around her still shaking form. “That-“, she licks her lips, “that I do not wish to be a queen. The pressure, and the paparazzi, and all those duties – I may have been born to be a queen, as so many people said when I was dating Joffrey, but I do not _want_ to be one. Was that- was that the wrong answer? Should I have said yes?”

 

Her voice, her eyes, her whole being is filled with dread, and she might have a panic attack for the next few years, no, _decades_ , if she really has to marry him, but her mother shakes her head and hugs her once more. “That was the perfect answer.” Sighing deeply, deeper than she did when Robb confessed that he’d gotten his last one-night stand pregnant, she sits down on the toilet seat, burying her face in her hands. Catelyn looks tired, so tired that Sansa feels worry wash through her, but she catches herself soon enough.

 

“He asked your father last night. First for Arya’s hand, and then, when your father told him no, he asked for yours.” Looking at her mother completely and utterly shocked, Sansa smashes her fist down on the sink. “She’s _sixteen_ , for gods sake! She can’t even legally drive, let alone _marry someone_. Who’s more than thrice her age, and who will have her pregnant by summer, because he needs an heir. Hasn’t he ever _looked_ at her? She’s so slim, so _frail_ , she’ll die if she has to give birth to a nine-pound babe-”

 

“That’s why we will do everything we can to keep the two of you from getting pregnant now. Your father does not want you – or Arya – to marry before you are at least 25, and he made that clear to Robert, but apparently, he chose to ask you nonetheless.” “And with Joffrey’s ring.”, Sansa sneers, and glares at the glittering monstrosity of gold and rubies and emeralds that lie next to her feet as if it could bite her, and Catelyn picks it up.

 

“He showed Ned the ring he had made for Lyanna all those years ago, when he asked for your sister’s hand”, she whispers, and both women stare at the door with disgust. Somewhere behind it, Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, is drinking wine, harassing the waitresses, and brawling around. Catelyn sighs again, and pats her daughter’s arm. “Go to your room. I’ll tell them that you are sick, and send Arya up, to look after you.”

 

Once Sansa’s disappeared up the stairs, she tells Jeyne to take over her duties as hostess, orders Arya to go and take care of her older sister, and excuses herself to go look after her granddaughter. She cannot stand to be in the same room as Robert right now, and she doesn’t know whether she’ll ever look at him again without feeling sick.

 

 

**_ANOTHER GIRL – will King Robert DIVORCE Queen Margaery (27) after birth of forth daughter? What feminists think of the line of succession_ **

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**_They’re back and looking better than ever – exclusive interview with Aegon (28) and Daenerys Targaryen (26) over their time in Essos and their plans for the future_ **

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**_Lady Shireen to partake in pride parade – young royal wants to end discrimination and homophobia_ **

 

 

“So, there’s a real chance of him just… losing the throne?”, she blurts out, making Jon raise his eyebrows. “Not what I was thinking about right now, but yes, if Aegon manages to do it right, then there’s… a good, a _really_ good chance of him dethroning Robert and becoming king himself”, he mumbles, and presses a kiss on where her shoulder meets her neck, “and you’re stuck here with me. You could have seduced Aegon, and he would’ve made you his queen.”

 

“Who says that I can’t seduce him now?”, she jests, and pokes his chest, wiggling around a bit. “ _No chance_ , doll. That would be against the bro code, and Aegon actually _follows_ the bro code, along some other codes. He really _wants_ to be king, you know? Rhaenys doesn’t want that kind of pressure on Aliandra, so she’s leaving the crown to him, should he win it. And he’s got 49% on the last poll, so we’re positive.

 

The Targaryens fell from power because of Aerys’ genocide fantasies and the Northern Affair, but Aerys is dead now, and no one remembers that my mother kissed Rhaegar and became pregnant. We’re losing our dark spots, and with Dany becoming a second Septa Maegelle, Rhaenys turning into a fan favourite and Viserys disappearing in Vaes Dothrak, we’ll have a pure white vest before Margaery manages to give him a son”, and then he rambles on, quite passionately, about Robert’s bastards, the accusations against him, Lady Shireen’s charity work and how she’s the only real threat to Aegon’s PR conquest.

 

They’re his family, she realises, these people with blue blood and fire flowing through their veins and a good claim on the crown. He was in the spotlight – as a baby, but still – and he might be thrust into it again, but he’s neither Joffrey nor Robert, there are no bruises on her arms and thighs and breasts, neither a hint of whiskey in his breath nor a glimmer of madness and cruelty in his eyes, and she hopes that the paparazzi will never look at her stomach and scream every time she’s wearing an empire waist dress.

 

And she loves him. She wants him, all of him, the dark nights when he wakes up thinking he’s still behind the wall and the way he holds her and whispers in her ear whenever something reminds her of Joffrey’s touches, but especially moments like this – waking up in his arms, because he’s kissing her neck and shoulders, because his stumble scratches her skin when he does it, and murmuring softly about some thing or the other, until she presses her lips to his.

 

“You know what?”, she cuts him of, “I don’t really care about kings.” He stares at her in disbelief, and she murmurs, “Not when we’re here, at least”, and he seems to remember that they’re in her bed with the morning sun shining through the lace curtains of the window, that she’s lying on top of him, that they’re _naked_. She sits up and straddles him, he blushes and she grins.

 

“We’ll talk about kings and strategies and politics _later_ ”, she whispers before she leans down to kiss him properly.

 

 

**_After Argella, what name will Queen Shireen and King Aegon give their second daughter? – bookmakers’ websites are CRASHING_ **

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**_Bastard son of late Targaryen prince proposes to ex-girlfriend of Joffrey ‘the Ill-born’ Lannister – will her wedding be bigger than Margaery’s?_ **

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**_Margaery Tyrell refuses to let Robert Baratheon see his daughters – ‘he’s neither a good father, nor was he a good husband’, says former queen_ **

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**_Sansa Stark (29), author of best-selling fantasy novel ‘On A Dragonfly’s Wings’, to marry Ser Jon Snow (32), hero of the War for the Dawn_ **

****

 

She’s not wearing any of the tiaras they expected her to wear, and the bookies are going to hate her, but she does not care for them. No, her tiara is a statement. She did not choose the ones her mother-in-law offered her – the infamous one with the roses, inlaid with tiny blue iolites, given to her by Rhaegar Targaryen, and the snowflake tiara that has been in Lyanna’s family for over a century – as well as the heavy, antique crown of house Stark and the Tully family tiara with the pearls and sapphires.

 

And she refused the pieces that the Targaryen’s wanted to lend to her, for their special day, to show that Jon’s one of them. She will not wear rubies, or a tiara shaped like flames, or even a piece that does not scream Targaryen, because they will _know_ that she borrowed it from Daenerys or Rhaenys or Rhaella.

 

When she steps out of the car, surrounded by Arya and Wynafryd and Alys in their vintage, mauve coloured bridesmaid dresses, she ignores the crowd outside the church for a few moments and curls her fingers around her father’s arm, waiting for Lysara, her little niece, to give her her bouquet of winter roses. She turns around, still clutching Ned’s arm like her lifeline, to wave at the fans of the royal family and the paparazzi, and grins when they turn quiet, and then start to murmur once they recognise the shape.

 

Feeling the gentle weight of the Dayne family tiara on her head and knowing that everyone’s staring at the circle of diamond stars on her copper waves, she begins her ascent up the stairs of Baelor’s Sept, where Jon waits for her – Aegon, who’s his best man, next to him, and the Daynes in the very first pew, next to the Targaryens, Arthur probably beaming silently. At least the paparazzi look at her diadem and not her still flat middle, where a child, that might have the dark blue eyes and sandy hair of the Daynes of Starfall, is growing.

 

“Your children won’t be in the line of succession, you know?”, Arya whispers next to her, trying to ease her nerves in front of the cameras and 2 billion people, and Sansa smirks. “Yes, _thank the gods_. I don’t want them to.” Her sister grins, and can’t help but laugh. “And- I actually bet on your tiara, because I knew about Jon’s paternity, and because I knew that everyone was going to bet on Jenny’s dragonfly tiara, and that no one would ever think about Jon’s _real_ father”, she confesses in a rush, and Sansa laughs even more.

 

“Oh, yes. Who would’ve thought that the honourable Arthur Dayne had it in him to father a bastard? _No one_.”


End file.
